


Flashpoint

by Zelos



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Loss of Innocence, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelos/pseuds/Zelos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flashpoint (politics): In international relations, a <b>flashpoint</b> is an area or dispute that has a strong possibility of developing into a war. (Wikipedia)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pound of Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Demenior for the inspiration, and Justanotherghostwriter for the encouragement.

<Prince Jake?> Ax called from where he was fiddling with their transmitter. <There is something you must see.>

Jake looked up from where he had been scrawling diagrams into the dirt. He didn’t move.

“Jake,” Marco said. His voice sounded strained. “Hell, everyone. Get over here, _now_.”

Jake dusted his hands off, ambling over to where they gathered. There was noise crackling through the speakers of Ax’s computer. A voice. Screaming.

“What’s with the screaming?” Rachel asked.

Marco gestured silently at the screen.

He was a long, purple tube, almost Taxxon-like in its monstrosity. But there were no needle legs holding it up, no gelatinous eyes. Just a long, horrible, slightly translucent tube, with a mouth full of thousands of suckers, each sucker dripping slime. The massive monster was wound around the human, chair and all, like a python strangling its prey. 

“AHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The human, terrified to the point of catatonia, screamed. Screamed and screamed and screamed.

He had familiar brown hair.

_Tom._

“Jake Berenson,” Visser One’s voice crackled through the speakers. Speech, not thought-speak. His voice sounded colder out loud.

The horrible mouth closed around Tom’s head, and the only thing visible was a shadow, a dull smear through translucent skin.

“AHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Tom was screaming. Rather, his Yeerk was. The Yeerk was beyond pain, beyond begging. He just screamed and screamed and screamed as he was sucked out of the human head.

The Yeerk slug, a grey shadow the size of a human hand, tumbled through the innards of the tube and disappeared.

Visser One lifted his awful mouth away from Tom’s face.

“AHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Tom was still screaming. Screaming forever, like he would never, ever stop. Now fully himself, he was still screaming, like it was the last thing he was able to do.

Brown hair dripped slime.

“Come meet me, Jake Berenson,” Visser One said with silky menace. “We shall talk. Otherwise…” The awful mouth lowered towards Tom’s head again.

The screen went black.

A long, awful silence. Cassie’s hand was at her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. Rachel looked stricken. Tobias held Rachel’s hand, white to the lips. Marco stared steadily at the ground.

Finally, Ax broke it with his typing, his nimble fingers flying across the keyboard. <Every TV channel. Every radio station. Open broadcast across the city. This is more than just a threat, Prince Jake. This is—>

“A message, yeah.” Jake’s voice sounded faraway even to his own ears.

“A message for humanity, not just us.” The colour was beginning to come back to Rachel’s face, the familiar outrage seeping in. “An example.”

“Yup.”

“We’ll save them, Jake,” Cassie whispered, reaching for his hand. “We will.”

Marco looked up at him. “It’ll be a trap.”

Rachel whirled to face Marco. “Are you—are you even _implying_ , for one fucking second, that we’d _leave_ him there?! Are you that much of a _chickenshit_ —”

“ _Screw you_ ,” Marco snarled back. “I’m going. We’re all going. But the bastard’ll be expecting us. We’re a guerilla group, used to surgical strikes. We can’t take them head on.”

“Yes we can,” he cut in, and everybody stared. Cassie winced slightly, not liking the look on his face.

His eyes were on Rachel, brown eyes meeting blue. Her expression scared him. He wondered if his scared her.

Marco gave a small, grim nod.

“Visser One expects covert. We’ll do overt. We’ll go in with a bang.”

 

<Are you going to talk to him, Jake?> Tobias.

Marco looked up from his huddle with his parents. He was curious too.

“Does it matter?” Jake said evasively, not looking up from the diagrams sketched in dirt.

Cassie grabbed him, yanked him around. “This is Tom we’re talking about, Jake. Your parents. What do you mean, _does it matter?_ ”

He shoved her hands off. “There’s nothing to say. No bargaining with Yeerks.”

Cassie looked stricken, eyes huge in her face. “Jake—they’re your family. At least—at least _listen_ to what he has to say. Stall. Don’t let them get killed.”

“Then they would be casualties of war,” he snapped back.

Cassie jerked back as if struck.

He smiled at her, a rictus twist of lips. His voice, even soft, cut like slivers of glass. “We’ve known all along this could be a possibility, right? This isn’t about Tom, about my mom and dad. It can’t be. We can’t let them bargain with hostages.”

He looked over at Ax. The words were tumbling out faster now, urgent and cracking. They had to _see_. “They’d die in the service of their people, defending freedom. Right, Ax?”

Cassie was staring at him as if she had never seen before.

Ax stared back with his enigmatic Andalite face and did not answer.

 

The Yeerk pool. The Visser hadn’t specified a meeting place, but what better place than the Yeerk pool? What better place to emphasize his point than the stronghold of Yeerk society? And what better place to emphasize Jake’s counterpoint, the _coup de grâce_?

_Check, Yeerk. Your move._

<You wanted to talk, Visser?>

Visser One turned around, stalk eyes swivelling. But of course, he had no idea what forms they were in. Gleet Biofilters and patrol drones were trivial to bypass. The crowning glory of Yeerk security was child’s play to them and they were the children.

All they had to do was hitch a train in morph. Too bad that their rounding up of hosts left no room for security measures.

<Jake Berenson. I knew you would come. Such human sentimentality.> He was sneering, gloating. He thought he had the upper hand.

<Don’t waste my time. You wanted to talk. So talk.>

<Such impatience. You’re in no position to make demands, little human.> Visser One’s voice was still silken, still soft. He was enjoying this. <I propose…a trade.>

<Yeah? Of what?> He already knew.

<Your family…for your friends. Three for three,> Visser One answered. <I want your pet Andalite, and the one named Tobias. Wrapping up Elfangor’s loose ends, you see. The last one…you can pick.> He paused. <I feel it is a very fair trade. Generous, even.>

<Destination in two minutes, thirty seconds,> Marco called, voice faint. <Detonation on impact, man. Get gone.>

<Jake…> Cassie was pleading. <The people…we need to warn them.>

<No,> he snapped back. <Not yet. I won’t let him get away.>

<Jake…>

<Jake?> Visser One prompted. <Your decision?>

He could hear the squealing in the distance that heralded the incoming train. The train packed with more explosives than a Fourth of July parade.

Andalite hearing was very good. But not that good.

<Jake? Are you still there, little human?>

<Yeah, I am.> He paused, letting the words sink in. <Denied.>

He could see the Visser blink, surprise and fury painted across his face. <You would sacrifice your family?>

Jake ignored him. <Ax?>

<One minute, forty-five seconds, Prince Jake.>

Good enough. <No, Visser. I’ll sacrifice _you_. >

< _What?_ > But Visser One’s stalk eyes were swivelled towards the tunnel entrance. Even Andalite hearing could hear it now.

<Ten one-thousand-pound bombs, Yeerk. A funeral pyre, just for you. More than you deserve.> To the audience at large he added, <I suggest you start running, Yeerks. If you’re lucky, you might live. Burning is a horrible way to die.>

Every Yeerk in the complex heard his words. Every single one knew his voice. And every single one froze on the spot.

<RUN!> Cassie screamed. < _Run_ , you idiots! Run for your lives!>

That jolted the Controllers to reality. They turned as one and stampeded towards the exits. Those who could morph morphed as they went, misshapen lumps of limbs and wings. Some of them got stepped on before they finished morphing.

No one has had such notoriety since Elfangor. He wasn’t pleased by that.

<YOU DARE?!> Visser One roared; the rage in his mind blast would have made his teeth rattle in his head, if he had any.

<Fifty-seven seconds,> Ax reported.

<Let’s haul.> Aloud he added, <burn well, Yeerk.>

Behind them, the Yeerk pool went up like the Fourth of July.

 

There had been no congratulations, no _well done_. Cassie refused to look at him. Tobias said nothing. Ax said nothing. Marco had no witty wisecracks.

It was Rachel who came up to him afterwards. Rachel, who’d left Tobias alone to sit with him, both of them staring into space, wrapped in stony silence.

Jake wanted to ask her if he had been wrong. He was afraid of her saying yes. Worse, he was afraid of her saying no.

He didn’t ask.

A long, long time later—he didn’t know how long—Rachel shifted slightly. “We hurt them.” There was no joy in her voice.

He shouldn’t be surprised by that, but he was. “Yeah.”

She reached for his hand and squeezed it.

 

“AHHHHH!”

<MARCO!> He was on his feet and halfway into tiger stripes before the echoes of Marco’s scream had fallen out of the air.

“ _Rrrrrrrawwwwwwr!_ ” Rachel was already roaring the muddy, guttural roar of a grizzly. Cassie was sprouting silver fur.

And Ax…

Ax was staring at his computer with all four eyes. The blue of his fur was two shades lighter, and he looked more horrified than Jake’d ever seen him. Marco was beside Ax, white as a sheet, one hand clinging to Ax’s flank. Neither looked to be in immediate danger, just terrified beyond belief.

<Ax?> Rachel had stopped morphing. Her voice was puzzled. <Marco?>

<Oh…oh. _Fuck_. > Tobias. With his peerless hawk eyes.

<P-p-prince Jake.> Ax’s voice was shaking. <Everyone. I…> He gestured to the screen with a trembling hand, at a loss for words.

Cassie, Jake, and Rachel, now all demorphed, took off towards them at a run. Skidded to a stop at the screen. Waited for their eyes to refocus at the black-on-black of space.

The Blade ship, outlined—just barely—by starlight. The camera panned the awful battle-axe form from front to back, taking in every angle of the cruel axe-head wings, the long diamond-pointed handle of the bridge.

And then it zoomed in.

“Oh, my god,” Cassie whispered, and turned away.

Marco threw up on the grass.

On the front of the handle, at what must be the very centre of the bridge bulkhead, was a small, roughly spherical shadow. The camera kept zooming until even pitiful human eyes could make it out: the skin, white with the pallor of death. Haggard, strewn brown hair, thinning slightly at the crown. A familiar nose set in a much older face. Dark eyes rolled back, never to see again. The abrupt end at the neck, cleanly severed by an Andalite tail-blade.

A human head, hanging on the bridge.

Jake’s legs gave out underneath him.

“Uncle Steve.” Rachel looked sick. Beyond sick.

The camera zoomed in until the head filled the screen. Panned, left to right, then back. Every detail shown, including the dead flesh that would no longer bleed at the severed neck.

No one spoke.

And then, after nearly a full minute of long, awful silence, Visser One’s voice boomed through the speakers.

“Your move, Jake.”

 

Toby had said it best: _This is a war. There is no question that people will die. The only question is, who?_

Jake stood in front of them all, surveying his little army. They stared back, grim and scared and every face haunted.

He was their leader. Why him? Why him?

“This is it,” Jake said softly, and made a fist. “This is war.”


	2. The Captain's Hand

Jake had never felt too sorry for the Taxxons. They were sellouts. The Hork-Bajir had an excuse; they’d _fought_ their war and lost (no thanks to the Andalites). But the Taxxons? They sold out the rest of the galaxy just for some food. Food which was the _flesh_ of various sapient species across the galaxy, all to stem a hunger that could never be filled. Even after Tobias and Ax had morphed Taxxons and could relay the depths of the desperate, all-consuming hunger, he’d never given it too much thought.

They were worms. _Sellouts_.

He’d never given a kill order before today, out of principle if nothing else. They’d tried to keep a veneer of decency for the sake of their conscience. They’d always been a reactive force. But while that had been good enough for an infiltration, it wasn’t enough to stop a war.

So he gave that order today. And yet…he couldn’t dredge up too much pity. Not for them. Not for these sellouts.

Until Arbron had told him, <we Taxxons would fight with you.>

Not so sellouts, anymore.

Jake—and the others, probably—once considered the Andalites as a race of heroes. An assumption heavily influenced by Elfangor, for sure. But now, they knew as well as the Yeerks that the Andalites were nowhere near the saviours of the galaxy.

He wondered, as he flew in to meet Arbron a second time, whether he was beginning to become his foregone heroes. The absence of pity, the single-minded pursuit of victory at any cost, the writing-off of “lesser” species, whether or not they were actually lesser. Whether or not he has any right to judge.

People were going to die—people he loved, people he respected. On his orders. His.

 

<Why don’t you ask your friends to demorph?> Arbron suggested. <I’m sure they would be more comfortable.>

Jake hesitated, then nodded. He really wasn’t surprised. “Yeah. I guess they would.”

Ax went first, of course. He was the only one with a natural weapon. He emerged out of his flea morph, stalk eyes scanning, deadly tail cocked.

But his main eyes were on Arbron, staring hard at the Taxxon with…not wariness, but something that looked a lot like…wonder. <You are Arbron?>

<Yes.>

Ax hesitated, blinking. <My brother told me you died.>

The Taxxon made a slithering, hissing sound. Laughter, Jake realized with a start. He hadn’t known Taxxons could laugh, sapience be damned.

Arbron’s chuckles in their head sounded…sad. <I suppose I did.>

Ax winced, eyes downcast. <I apologize.>

<Nothing to apologize for. I told Elfangor to say what he did. Arbron the Andalite died long ago; I’m a Taxxon, now.>

“How did you survive? As, um, a Taxxon. I didn’t think the Taxxon homeworld was very…habitable.” Marco. More curious than wary.

<Persistence goes a long way. But this is not the time for my life story, humans. I have someone you need to meet. Estril?>

Tom walked out from the shadows, a broad grin on his face. “Hello, little brother.”

 

Tom’s plan was sound…just barely so. And Arbron was right to…if not _trust_ him, at least not _kill_ him. Arbron, no matter what he looked like, had an Andalite brain. Jake doubted that Arbron was any novice to the treacheries of war.

But Arbron’s people needed this chance. The human race needed this chance.

Tom’s smile was the same one he used to mock Jake about girls. “What’s wrong, little brother? Don’t trust me?”

<Not as far as I can throw you, Yeerk,> Rachel snapped, rolling her massive grizzly shoulders. <But I can throw you pretty far. Wanna try?>

“But you _have to_ trust me. You know as well as I do that this is your chance. That if that idiot we call Visser pulls the precious Pool ship, if he brings in his Blade ship and the full armada of Bug fighters, you’re done, bucko. Kaput. The human race gone. You don’t want that, right?” Tom’s grin turned nasty. “What I want isn’t much weighed against the human race, right, Midget?”

It was a lie. It was a trap. How? Where? He couldn’t tell. He wasn’t Marco.

And then it hit him. They didn’t need the _Yeerk_ , Estril or Eslin or whatever his name was. They couldn’t trust him. They needed _Tom_.

Everyone always forgot that the host learned the secrets of the Yeerk just as the Yeerk learned the secrets of the host, unless the Yeerk specifically chose otherwise. And so few do.

Without warning, Jake tackled his brother. The two went down in a heap of flailing limbs, rolling across the dirt floor of the tunnel.

<Jake!>

<Prince Jake!>

<No!>

“Arbron!” Tom yelled.

FWAPP!

Ax’s tail-blade quivered inches in front of Arbron. A warning. <Please do not interfere.>

The brothers rolled to a flailing stop with Jake on top of Tom, pinning him down and his hands at Tom’s throat. Jake’s eyes, glowing amber, glared down at his brother. “It’s _over_ , Yeerk.”

Tom froze. Normally Tom could easily flip Jake off, but not when Jake was nearly a quarter of the way into tiger.

Rachel grinned, full of grizzly teeth. <Try it, Yeerk. I _dare_ you. >

The spots faded from Tom’s hands.

Jake lowered his face—skin flashing orange and black—to Tom’s, speaking in a guttural growl that showed his lengthening canines. “ _Get out of my brother._ ”

The fury on Tom’s face was melting to fear.

<Or I can kill you. Better to die free than be a Controller.> It was hard to talk as a half-tiger, even if the fangs gave _punctuation_. He leaned closer, breath hot on his brother’s face.  <I haven’t met the involuntary Controller who disagreed with that.>

He remembered Temrash 114. He had a hard time forgetting that Yeerk, even years after he died. _You are fools. It is madness to fight when you cannot win._

But they could win. Press the advantage, take every inch. _They could win_.

“Tom’s morph-capable, Yeerk.” Marco had clicked. “And he knows what you do. We don’t need _you._ We can mess him up without killing him.”

Ax moved closer, one stalk-eye still watching Arbron. <We could also knock him out and take him with us. Three days. That’s all.>

Tom’s body shifted. He was afraid. Jake could smell his fear.

Jake leaned closer, his amber eyes boring into Tom’s brown ones. <A friend of yours told me your kind don’t fight hopeless fights. We starved him out. There it is, Yeerk. You lose. You _die_. Either here, from my claws. Or in three days, when you starve. Pick one, Yeerk. Pick it fast, or I’ll pick _for_ you. >

Tom snarled at him wordlessly.

Jake’s hands, still pressing on Tom’s throat, began to grow claws. Spots of blood began to well as the claw tips broke skin.

 _I_ will _kill you, Yeerk._

A silent eternity drew out.

Then…

A grey shadow began emerging from Tom’s left ear.

_Too cowardly to starve, Yeerk?_

No one spoke. No one dared to breathe. No one dared believe this was real until the Yeerk landed with a soft, almost indiscernible plop onto dirt floor.

FWAPP!

Quicker than the eyes could follow, Ax’s tail flashed. The Yeerk disappeared, flipped away.

No one knew if Ax had cut him in two first. No one cared.

Jake stopped morphing, staring down at his brother under him.  His face was still mostly feline. <Tom?>

Tom blinked as if confused, his head turning left and right. Then he stared back up at Jake as if finally seeing him for the first time.  Stared at the fangs stretching out of Jake’s mouth, the half-formed claws at his throat, the orange and black stripes on sprouting fur. “J-Jake?”

< _Tom?_ >

Tom’s face crumpled. “Jake—I’m _sorry_ , I’m so—”

He didn’t get the rest out as Jake threw his half-formed paws around him, Tom’s tears streaming into striped fur. And when Jake demorphed, when he had eyes that could cry, he started crying too.

Arbron finally spoke minutes later. Angry. Disappointed. And yet…sympathetic. <This interferes with our plan.>

Marco looked up at the Taxxon and shook his head. “No. The plan proceeds.”

<And Tom?>

Jake said nothing for a moment, still clinging to his brother, but he pulled back slightly. Enough to stare at his brother in the eye.

It was supposed to be a request. A favour. But he knew better than anyone that it was an _order_.

Tom stared back, slowly comprehending. And, with a watery smile, he nodded.

“We go,” Jake said, once again the boy-general.

He stared down at Tom and added, hating himself with every word, “Tom goes, too.”

 

Jake never knew what happened to the Yeerk. He hoped Arbron had a nice snack.

 

Naomi was, predictably, not happy about the turn of events.

“Am I the _only_ one who has any _sense_ left in this camp?!” she raged, storming about the same five-pace square. “We let children— _children_ —fight this war, we let them get hurt and maimed trying save the world, and now we _finally_ got one _back_ we’re sending him back into hell _again?_ ” Her voice cracked. “He—he has to _pretend_ to be a Yeerk? Pretend to still have that filthy _thing_ in his head? And what if he slips?” She spun to face the adults, who shirked back from her glare. “Walter? Michelle? Eva? _None_ of you have a problem with this?”

“I said yes, Aunt Naomi,” Tom replied, voice unsteady and small.

Jake squeezed his hand. He hadn’t let his brother out of arm’s reach since they returned from the meeting with Arbron.

Naomi wasn’t finished. “And _you_ ,” she snarled, rounding on Jake. “This was _your_ idea? Has your brother not sacrificed enough?”

“Mom, shut up!” Rachel snapped at the same time Tom put his arm out in front of Jake and said, “ _My_ choice, Aunt Naomi.”

Naomi turned to Tom. “Yes, it was,” she said, voice icy, “and it was an _idiotic_ choice and—” Her voice cracked; she glared at all of them, trembling. “You—your parents aren’t around anymore, Tom, so I’ll talk some sense into you _for_ them—do you think, do you think they’d _let_ —”

“No one _lets_ us do anything, Mom,” Rachel retorted, and she was her mother less twenty years. “This is _our_ war. Don’t you get it? _Our_ war!”

“It _shouldn’t_ be your war!”

“Then _what?_ Are _you_ volunteering, Mom?” Rachel almost screamed. “This is not a courtroom, there is no fair trial. This is _war!_ If we can’t fight, who can? Adults? _You?_ Can you take ending up like _that?_ ” she waved towards the direction of Ax’s computer and TV.

<Rachel!> Tobias said sharply.

Tom’s face went white. He hadn’t seen. But Marco’d told him about his parents on the way back. He could guess the rest.

Walter finally piped up. “It’s just…we want you to come _back_ , kids.” He reached a trembling hand towards Cassie beside him. “Can’t we, I don’t know, talk—”

“Compromise with slugs? Negotiate? _How?_ ” Rachel shot back. “We promise them a few thousand hosts so they’d back off? Who would be the hosts? _You?_ ”

Walter flinched and faltered into silence.

<Rachel,> Tobias said again, part plea and part warning.

Rachel glared at him too, but fell silent.

Jake rose to his feet, face as white as Tom’s. But his eyes were steady, and his voice was calm.

“This is _our_ war, Aunt Naomi. And it _is_ a war. It’s not about me, or my parents, or…or Tom.” He felt Tom’s gaze burning on his face, but he did not look away from Naomi. “You don’t make this call for us.  Now, all parents except for Eva and Peter need to leave. We need to plan.”

The cool dismissal struck harder than Rachel’s screaming. Naomi jerked back as if slapped. Her eyes never left Jake’s face even as Michelle led her away.

Jake didn’t look back.

 

Cassie caught up to him some time later, after they had all finished their meagre dinner of a few rabbits Tobias and Rachel had caught. “You never answered my question at the meeting.”

“What question was that?” he asked evasively.

Cassie grabbed his shoulders and gave him a shake. “The what if question, Jake. What if this doesn’t work? What if Tom can’t pull it off? What’s our Plan B?”

“We don’t have a Plan B,” he said harshly. “When in our last three years have we ever had the intelligence or luxury to make Plan Bs?”

“Then what?” Cassie pressed. “Then if Tom slips, we’ll just let them Yeerks take him? Your _brother?_ Really? After we’ve been fighting to save him for so long?”

“This is going to work,” Jake said firmly. “We will make it work. _You_ will make it work.”

“ _Me?_ ”

“You…” he couldn’t look her in the eye. “You’re going with Tom. As Yeerk.”

A heavy silence. Cassie stared.

“You know I’m right. Tom’s…new,” Jake said softly, trying to fill the gulf between them. They stopped walking. “I…don’t know how well he can act, how well he can handle the pressure. And I can’t have him crack on me. Besides, the Yeerks’ security systems need to detect a Yeerk in him. You’re the only one with a Yeerk morph.”

Cassie was quiet for a moment. “When were you planning on telling me this?”

“When you came to find me, I guess.”

Cassie’s eyes were piercing. “And have you told _Tom?_ ”

“I…was hoping you would,” he admitted. Hastily adding, “You’re the best at this people thing, right? I thought you’d break it to him more…gently…than anyone else could.”

Shirking responsibility, more like. All because he didn’t want to see the look on Tom’s face when the news (orders) broke.

Cassie knew it too; the look on her face was clear disapproval. “You’re using me.”

He didn’t deny it.

“Cassie,” he added after a moment.

Cassie looked up, anger in her eyes. “What?”

“You’re…you’re the best at reading people, knowing what they’re thinking, knowing what to do. So if Tom…starts freaking out…well, calm him down, okay? Forcibly, if you have to.”

If Cassie had been angry, now she was _furious_. More furious than he’d ever seen her. “You want me to _control_ your brother?!”

“I was thinking more like influence,” Jake defended (lied). He had been a Controller, Cassie had morphed a Yeerk. They both knew the Yeerk’s mental capabilities. “Think calm thoughts, recall memories, things like that.”

Cassie glared at him, disgust painted clear on her face. “You want this to work? You want to do this? Then _you_ tell him, Jake. Tom should know who thought this up, who doesn’t give a damn about how _he_ feels.” She whirled to stalk back to camp.

“Cassie,” he called after her.

She stopped but didn’t turn around.

“Please…look after him.”

Cassie still didn’t turn, but the set of her shoulders sagged a little.

After a moment, she set back for camp.

Jake didn’t follow.

 

Afterwards, Jake went flying for a long time, refreshing his clock as needed when he checked Naomi’s watch. The air was the only place he could get a modicum of solace, where he could hear himself think.

Mind, his thoughts never strayed far from the war and how he was screwing it up, but at least then it was only his voice saying so, and not the entire camp.

There was even a sweet little breeze to soar on, and it may be the closest thing to the freedom they were all fighting for. Now he understood, _really understood_ , why Tobias chose the wings.

He watched over everyone as they bustled below him. Tobias flew with Loren, low and slow in the dying light. Tom played with Sara (when he’d never given her the time of day even before the divorce). Ax performed a ritual that he didn’t recognize. Marco bickered with his mother and pretended to care about the outcome. Naomi continued trying to teach English to the Hork-Bajir, (purposefully?) not remembering that many of them wouldn’t live to remember her lessons.

Rachel paced liked a caged tiger. Restless, aggressive, not-quite-helpless. She wanted to be in the thick of things. She hated that her part had to _wait_.

Once upon a time Jake would’ve bet money on Rachel being his end-game piece. He’s never told Rachel, but he thought she knew. She loved the war. What was she going to do after it was all over? Law school? After several lifetimes’ worth of nightmare battles and bloodlust?

He didn’t want her to die. He didn’t want _anyone_ to die—he’d gladly die for them. But if he had to lay money on who would go out in a blaze of glory, he would’ve bet Rachel.

But Rachel was no longer his best chess piece. That dubious honour went to his brother. The one he swore to rescue. The one he would use, ruthlessly, into the ground.

If the plan worked.

If, if, if.

 

Jake landed a few hours later and immediately spotted the tuft of dark hair approaching, even with dimming eyes.

“Jake.” Jordan skidded to a stop in front of him, hands clenched into fists and dark eyes flashing. She waited, not-so-patiently, while he changed from owl to human.

He was about to say (a very tired) hello when he noticed the look on her face. This was not meant to be a social call.

 “So, Tom told me what your plan was,” she began unsteadily. “He’s the only one who actually tells the rest of us _anything_.”

“Jordan—”

“Shut up,” she snapped, and she was Rachel’s sister through and through. “Just—you _better_ come back, you hear me? I want Rachel to fight with me over the bathroom and yell at me when I steal her shoes. I want Tom to give me rides to the movies when Mom isn’t around. I want Dad to take me to baseball games like he did— _does_ —with Rachel. I want Cassie to teach me to ride a horse, Tobias to teach me to fly. I want Marco to—” she broke off, hands clenching and unclenching.

Her face was scarlet. Jake wondered why.

“Bring everyone home,” Jordan finished finally. “I don’t care how you do it. You’re damned anyway.”

He flinched.

“ _You’re damned anyway,_ ” Jordan repeated, tears welling in her eyes. “Bring _everyone_ home, do you hear me? No matter _what_ you have to do.”

She drew back and for a second Jake thought she would punch him. Instead, she gave him an awkward hug and ran off at top speed, almost tripping on the grass.

He stared at her retreat, chewing over her words.

_You’re damned anyway._

And he hasn’t even told Tom his full role yet.

 

He had rehearsed how to break it to Tom a few dozen times, in a few dozen iterations. Logic. Plea. Command. None of them went smoothly in his imagination.

“Tom,” he said.

“Mm?”

Jake’s mouth felt dry. “So. Tomorrow. Cassie’s going with you.”

Tom blinked. “I thought we’re assembling in two days? Never mind, I appreciate the company.” His brows furrowed. “What’s she going as? Flea?”

“No.” Jake swallowed. “Yeerk.”

It was a movie in slow-motion: Tom froze, every muscle taut, eyes wide. Blood drained from his face. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, and the look he shot Jake was nothing short of betrayal.

“Tom,” Jake tried, “I—the security, the BioFilters…”

“ _No_ ,” Tom whispered, and terror painted his face. “No, nono _no_ …”

“Tom,” another voice, older. Eva. Either overheard or understood, Jake wasn’t sure which. Whichever it was, the look on her face was somewhere between grim determination and painful understanding.

Jake belatedly remembered that Eva had willingly let Edriss 562 stay in her head for the sake of the greater good.

“Come on, Tom,” Eva said softly, bodily hauling him to his feet and steadying him. “Let’s talk.”

As he was led away, Tom shot Jake another look, which Jake studiously avoided.

Jake sat by the fire for a very long time.

Cassie didn’t come find him. Jake supposed he was glad about that.

 

Tom found him the next morning, his dark hair sticking up in about sixteen different directions. Clearly he hadn’t gotten any sleep. Neither had Jake.

Jake briefly wondered if Yeerks could make their hosts sleep.

“So,” Tom said, and his voice was unsteady and just a little ragged. “Your plan, huh?”

“Tom…”

Tom cut him off with a wave of his hand. Jake fell silent.

“I’ll do it,” Tom said finally. “You knew that, though, didn’t you?”

Jake didn’t want to say that it had never been a _choice_. He nodded anyway.

Tom cocked his head, studying him. “They hate you _so bad_ , y’know. And now I know why. Hard choices, Midget. Ruthless, hard choices.” He shook his head and laughed. It sounded brittle. A shadow flickered across his face, terror mingled with madness.

Jake shouldn’t have asked, but he did anyway: “What did Eva say to you?”

“Not much. She just promised me something.”

“Promised you what?”

Tom’s eyes glittered, soft and savage. “Vengeance.” His voice quieted suddenly; for a moment, he looked like he did before the war, something faraway in his eyes. “And maybe, at the end of it all, absolution.”

Jake thought of Arbron’s cave, Tom quivering under his half-formed claws.

He didn’t bother saying that there was no absolution for anyone in this war.

_We’ll pay it all back, Tom. Dad, Mom, you, me. We’ll pay it all back._

“It’s okay, Jake.” Tom watched him with a strange expression. Some mix of tenderness, and bright, savage love. “After all, we have to win.”

“Tom…” His voice cracked.

He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to say—

“Shut up,” and Tom crushed him into a hug. He kissed Jake’s hair. “Don’t say it.”

Jake held on for a very long time.

Tom pulled them apart. His eyes were bright. “Two days, Midget. Don’t be late.”

 

He should’ve said thank you to Eva.

Should’ve…

 

Two days.

Two days for Arbron to assemble his Taxxons, for Doubleday to rally his men. Two days for Tom and Cassie to reintegrate into Yeerk society, to “discover” the rebellions, and to catch a stray Animorph by their lonesome. Two days for Tom and Cassie to play their parts of unwilling host and Yeerk, to make up whatever excuse for Tom’s absence from their ranks.

The sun shone clean and bright on the dawn of that last day.

It was a good day to die.


	3. Bastille Day

“Sir?” The officer in charge stared, wide-eyed, at their cargo. His voice was hushed. “Is that…?”

“No, you idiot, I _like_ toting around wild, dangerous Earth animals for my own amusement,” Tom snapped. “Of course that’s an Animorph. So don’t keep me waiting if you value that fool head of yours.”

The Controller eyed the chained grizzly, expression wary. “Ah, um, then why not take a Bug fighter, sir? I’m sure the Visser would like to see…um, her?…as soon as possible.”

“I’m not taking a Bug fighter for very good reasons, reasons that are for the Visser’s ears, not yours,” Tom snarled, eyes flashing. “ _Don’t keep me waiting_.”

The man audibly gulped and started waving his security wand around. Tom drummed his fingers on his steering wheel, the picture of disdain and impatience.

<How’s everything going?> Tobias.

<So far, so good,> Cassie answered grimly.

The other Controllers at the checkpoint murmured nervously, eyeing the chained grizzly in the back of the pickup truck. Tom glowered back, and didn’t hide his vicious amusement when Rachel took a halfhearted swipe at the wand-holding Controller.

Tom was driving them to the Pool ship, one Hork-Bajir accompanying him. He was driving on one of the transport roads: the Yeerks had cleared a few main roads of debris and lined them with checkpoints. It was a fairly slow ride, Rachel’s bulk notwithstanding.

Cassie, in Yeerk morph, relayed everything she and Tom saw. They were the only two members with adequate vision, since the rest were in various bug morphs (Ax, Marco, and Tobias: flea; Jake: fly).

<Would you all hurry up,> Rachel growled. <I’m bleeding to death here.>

To improve the authenticity of the decoy, Ax and two of Toby’s Hork-Bajir had “roughed up” Rachel to make it look like a capture than a docile surrender. Ax had done most of the damage with surgical precision, making the wounds appropriately nasty but not hitting anything vital. Toby’s Hork-Bajir had done the finishing superficial damage to make it look real.

Rachel had, at last count, sixteen wounds of varying severity. They may not have been critical, but they still _bled_. And Rachel wouldn’t be able to demorph until after the final battle ended.

“Sir.” The Controller had finished his scanning. “All signatures are normal, but I am detecting a large amount of insects on the Animorph. And some on yourself, as well.”

“ _Obviously_ ,” Tom’s voice positively dripped venom, “I’m towing a rotting corpse back there! They’re probably laying—what’s it called—maggots on the beast already.”

<Thanks, Tom,> Rachel muttered.

“I’ll go through the BioFilter later. I’m sure Visser One would like to see his guest _as soon as possible_ ,” Tom went on, picture-perfect acting. “Are you done now?”

Another gulp. “Yes sir.”

Jake had seen a lot of very ugly expressions from Tom during the last few years. Tom has a temper, yes, but he’d never been _cruel_. It was one of the reasons they had been close before the war: he wouldn’t beat up on people for no reason. But Tom was playing his part to the hilt, to the point Jake wondered if Tom was even _acting_.

Maybe it was Cassie. No, Cassie was even less capable of cruelty than his brother.

So many things had changed.

<Another one down.> Marco sighed as they drove slowly through the checkpoint. <How many more?>

<Three,> Ax answered glumly.

The truck motored on.

 

They entered through the Pool ship’s unloading bay, ostensibly because the entrance was much bigger—big enough for Hork-Bajir warriors to drag a full-grown bear through the widened halls comfortably.

It was also a direct route past the engineering bay.

Toby’s Hork-Bajirs—now totaling three—dragged Rachel’s bulk through the hallways slowly, yard by yard. Every so often Tom would casually turn and shoot her with a Dracon beam set on low, to keep her stunned.

It was for show. It was a very good show. Rachel’s pain, however, was very _real_.

TSEEEEEEEEEW!

<Auuuuuuuuuugh!>

“Raaaaaawwwwwwwwwr!”

<This is engineering, coming up.> Cassie, sounding like she wanted to cry.

Jake’s questionable vision through a fly’s compound eyes showed Tom’s face as being smooth and calm. Cassie? Tom? For show, or for real?

The engineering bay’s door zipped open. Controllers—Hork-Bajir, Taxxon, and human—poked their head out to see the show of a bear, an _Animorph_ , being dragged through the Pool ship.

<Door’s open! Ax, Marco, go!>

Two fleas bounced off of Tom’s shirt, unnoticeable.

Tom looked like he was enjoying the attention. Still playing the part. “Someone send word to the Visser,” he said cheerfully to the growing audience.

A human-Controller, wide-eyed, bolted towards the bridge.

<Ax, Marco!> Cassie called. <Remember, give us ten minutes head start!>

<Ten minutes to mayhem. Got it.>

<Godspeed,> Jake muttered.

 

The Visser was prepared for their arrival. A line of Hork-Bajir and a handful of Taxxons stood with the Visser at the entrance to the bridge. Far behind them, three human-Controllers manned the controls.

Visser One was not happy about being kept waiting.

Tom automatically straightened into a respectful stance. “Visser. I have much to report.”

<Report, then,> the Visser said. Less angrily than he could have. His stalk-eyes were staring at the furry bulk the Hork-Bajir warriors were dragging a long ways behind Tom.

“Visser, my sources indicate that there is a large contingent of the Taxxon forces rebelling today. Most of them belong to the group responsible for digging the new pool. They will be sabotaging the construction.”

That got Visser One’s attention. That _definitely_ got his attention. One stalk-eye swung towards Tom.  <They dare?!>

Tom paled visibly but plowed on. “Furthermore, the human militia is massing for an attack. Perhaps more than one. There is one group from the ground approaching the Pool ship directly, consisting of men, a few air fighters, and troops on the ground. There may be another force by air. I’m not certain whether this second force will join the Taxxons at the pool or also attack our Pool ship directly.”

Rachel was dragged into the room, weakly snarling. The Visser motioned for Tom to continue, all eyes on Rachel.

FWAPP!

<Aaaaaaaaaaah!> A real cut this time, not Ax’s window dressings. One grizzly ear was lopped off. A warning blow. A toying blow.

Tom flinched.

<Yes, I do enjoy hearing them scream,> Visser One said, almost thoughtfully. <This is…Rachel?>

“Yes, Visser.” Tom straightened again, trying to bring them back onto topic. “Visser, I respectfully suggest you let me take the Blade ship to deal with the Taxxon rebels. We can deploy the Bug fighters to deal with the humans’ aerial and ground attacks.”

FWAPP!

<Aaaaaaaaaah!>

<We can easily destroy all the rebels from this ship,> Visser One answered, sounding annoyed. Still distracted by his new toy. Watching, gleeful, at the pooling of dark red blood.

Tom’s grip tightened on his Dracon beam.

<Cassie.> Urgent, commanding. An order made in private. <Tom. Don’t crack, do you hear me? _Don’t_ _crack._ >

<But Rachel…>

<Stick with the plan.>

Tom took a deep breath. His face smoothed out. “The Pool ship is not maneuverable, Visser. The Taxxons would collapse our construction too quickly, far quicker than we could precisely destroy them. A wide-angle attack could end up with us destroying the Yeerk pool ourselves. And as pathetic as human weaponry is, they _do_ have an Andalite. In light of the humans having the morphing technology, it is not inconceivable that the Andalite would have relayed…information.”

<They cannot have built weapons!> Visser One snapped, looking up with his main eyes for the first time. Though not quite as certain as he should’ve sounded. <And the Andalite would not have broken their…> He trailed off, as if realizing the absurdity of his statement.

Jake could almost hear Cassie’s voice saying the words, sounding eminently reasonable even through a fly’s distorted hearing. But that was Cassie. Gentle. Firm. Always convincing.

“Not in large numbers, no. But one or two? Combined with the humans’ primitive, and somewhat effective, weapons? Visser, the humans had discovered Z-space, _by themselves_ , not so long ago. With Andalite instructions…maybe. And the Pool ship must be kept safe.”

Visser One did not appreciate the lecture. But he hesitated. Considered.

<Get us off the ground,> he snapped finally. <Raise shields and deploy the Bug fighters.> But he didn’t give the last order.

The ship lurched skyward. Faster than he expected.

“Visser!” One of the human-Controllers at the controls yelled. “We have human fighters incoming!”

Jake cranked around so fast he almost dislodged himself from Tom’s shirt.

He knew that voice. _Knew that voice._ Heard it every day of his waking life.

Rachel perked from her sprawl on the floor.

< _Mom?_ >

<Destroy them, then,> Visser One answered. Circling Rachel. Bloodied. Wounded. Helpless.

Not helpless. Not his cousin who’d beaten a Hork-Bajir to death with her own severed arm.

Jake felt, rather than saw, Rachel tensing on the ground.

Stick to the plan.

_Mom!_

The Visser was so close…

<Rachel!> He would never know which way he’d actually meant.

“HHHRAAAAAAAAAAWR!” Rachel reared up and dove at the Andalite with four-inch pickaxe claws.

FWAPP!

<Auuuuuuuuugh!> A glancing blow. One that would’ve taken Rachel’s head off if it had hit properly. As it was, the blow drew a bloody gash across her face, nearly going through one eye.

But in that half-second, the Visser was distracted. And behind him—

TSEEEEW!!

Visser One dropped like a ton of bricks.

For one crystalline moment, everyone froze. Every eye was on Tom. Tom, and the Dracon weapon he still held in shaking hands. Tom, and the mingled amazement and hatred twisting his face.

Split second decision.

<Tom! _Go!_ Take the Blade ship! > A backwards flip in midair and Jake was out the door.  Landed on the ground in the entryway. Tom blew past him like a human whirlwind, his Dracon weapon clattering on the floor. <Rachel! Hold them off!>

Demorph!

Rachel, badly wounded, facing off a legion of Hork-Bajir and Taxxon alone.

Death sentence.

Rachel’s laugh rang in his head as his vision melted. <Come on, bastards. Afraid?>

The Hork-Bajir and Taxxons hesitated. Eyed their Visser, who was in a stunned heap on the ground. Eyed their Dracon beams, which would undoubtedly hit their precious Visser as well as the attackers.

The Taxxons stayed back, either from fear or silent solidarity.

As one, the Hork-Bajir leaped, a wall of bladed death. “HeeROOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!”

Rachel swung a massive paw hard enough to fold the first Hork-Bajir in two. The second one slashed, and a deep gash appeared in Rachel’s shoulder.

Rachel’s response was to drive her pickaxe claws through the Hork-Bajir’s face.

The Hork-Bajir outnumbered them by far—at least ten to two. But Rachel was in the doorway, partly shielded by (and occasionally _trampling_ ) Visser One. There was no Controller in the hallway behind her…yet. And one at a time, while avoiding their Visser, was no way to fight Rachel.

“GGGRAAAAAAWR!”

TSEEEEEEEEW!

<Hah-hah! _Yes!_ Got _—aaaaaaaaaaaaah!_ >

TSEEEEEEEEEW!

Jean—his mother—was firing at them. She was firing in sheer hatred and terror, the Visser and Hork-Bajirs be damned. Rachel’s front paw, gone in a sizzle of light. A Hork-Bajir, looking stunned, a hollow through his chest.

TSEEEEEEEW! Missed!

Jake was still morphing, the electric power of the tiger just kicking in. He could feel the strength in his haunches, the fangs in his jaws, the brilliant vision that tracked every movement of prey.

TSEEEEEW! TSEEEEEEEW!

She was still firing. The other human-Controllers were following suit.

Had to stop her.

<Rachel, _duck!_ >

Rachel ducked. He leaped right over her head in a mess of half boy and half beast, still-forming claws extended…

 

What did she see in her last moment? A boy? A beast? Jake Berenson, with human eyes and tiger fangs?

 

He landed on top of her with all 800-odd pounds of Siberian tiger. Spun and downed a second human. He leaped towards the Hork-Bajir—neither human moved beneath him—and drove his claws, now fully-formed, into the first Hork-Bajir’s throat. A mid-air twist, and he slashed a second Hork-Bajir.

A start, a sickening sideways lurch, and then…a sudden emptiness. The ship was drifting.

Jake, with perfect feline balance, didn’t even slow down. “HRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWR!”

The world disappeared into a blur of fangs and claws and survival and savagery.

 

It was over surprisingly quickly, between inadvertent Dracon shots, a choke point, and the pincer attacks from two apex predators. And the Taxxons, damned creatures they were, ate anything that wouldn’t kill them, including the Controllers. Including themselves.

Including one helpless Andalite Controller still in a heap, coated in grizzly blood.

“SRRRRRRRREEEEEEE-WAAAAAAAAAAR!”

<Rachel!>

Rachel rolled out of the way. The Taxxon dove past her. It wasn’t going to mess with the creature who’d taken out a roomful of elite Hork-Bajir. But the bodies…the soft, wasted flesh…the Visser, who at the moment looked like every other piece of bloody meat in the room…

The Visser stirred. Groaned.

“SREEEEEEE!” The lamprey mouth came down. The gelatinous eyes quivered.

Normally, Jake couldn’t read a Taxxon to save his life. But, just before the Taxxon hit, Jake thought he saw…triumph.

CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUNCH!

And the Andalite body, once belonging to a War-Prince named Alloran-Semitur-Corrass, quite abruptly _ended_ from the torso up. Blue-black blood spurted in a wide, arcing spray.

<Oh, god.> He wasn’t sure whether Rachel said it or he did. Maybe they both did at once.

If he had been human, he would’ve thrown up. Even the tiger was tempted to. Or maybe that was just the stench. His eyes could _see_ the goo exuding through the Taxxon’s soft, bloated skin.

CRRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUNCH!

Rachel moved to kick the Taxxon.

<Don’t bother,> he snapped, and she faltered.

The pair stared at the Hork-Bajir bodies littering the floor. Blood—red and green and other alien colours—painted the walls. And the Taxxons, driven by their terrifying, mad hunger, were doing what they did best: clean up, dead or alive.

<Are those…Arbron’s Taxxons?>

<Does it matter?>

Bodies everywhere, living and dead. Hork-Bajir, moaning with their dying breaths.

His mother was behind him. Dead? She wasn’t moving.

His fault. He got distracted. Got her involved. He got sleep, his family got Yeerks.

A Taxxon circled.

Jake looked away.

Rachel lumbered towards the Taxxon, steps unsteady. Too much blood loss.

<Rachel, demorph.>

He had to concentrate. Had to think, despite the Taxxons’ feasting. No time to worry about corpses and worms.

This wasn’t in the plan. They were supposed to sabotage the ship, take the pool. Not duke it out in the bridge with an onslaught of Controllers incoming.

No time to worry. Stick with the plan.

There was a thundering down the hall, heavy and rhythmic, like a loping run. And with it, the rapid staccato rap of hooves.

FWAPP!

“SRRRREEEEEEEE!”

Rachel and Jake turned towards the door just as Marco and Ax blew through it, knocking the feeding Taxxon across the room in a spray of yellow-green goo. It was still chewing on scraps of Andalite flesh even as its brothers converged on him.

<Here to save your butts!> Marco announced. Swung around. <Oh, looks like you don’t need— _holy fuck what the fuck is that?!_ >

<That,> Rachel said with grim satisfaction, <is Visser One. Was.> She began to demorph.

Even Ax turned to stare, openly revolted at the Andalite remains. His tail lashed at the air, once, twice. A shudder ran through his Andalite frame.

Then, with an air of great disgust, he dashed for the bridge’s controls. <We don’t have much time.>

“What do you mean—” Rachel began. Faltered. “No pool?”

Marco jerked a thumb behind him. <Visser One never made it out. He never massed the Controllers on board. Toby never trapped them in engineering. Ergo, _we_ never made it to the pool—there were too many guards. >

<Yes,> Ax answered, nimble hands flying across the controls. <Right now, the Yeerks know who we are, _where_ we are. And they, with or without their Visser, will prepare for siege. They will attempt to hold the Pool ship. >

Behind them, the bridge’s doors slammed shut with a hissing of hydraulics.

<Ax? Will that hold?> Jake asked. Rachel began to re-morph.

Ax hesitated. <No. Not for long.>

<How many are there?>

<Not counting the unhosted Yeerks in the pool? At least a hundred. The Visser had stationed his personal troops here with him. And now, all of them will be armed.>

Jake’s heart stopped. Even if Toby’s troops could halve that number, that was still way too many. They had _four_.

<Hit the pool!> Marco. As usual, he saw the simple, ruthless answer. <Cassie and Tom and Tobias! They’re on the Blade ship!>

Ax’s fingers flew across the panels. The Blade ship flashed onto the screen. Then, after a pause, <the Blade ship is unresponsive.>

<What the fuck does that mean?!> Rachel yelled.

<It means that no one is answering,> Ax answered, somewhere between testy and deadpan. Another pause, and then he added in a softer voice, <I fear the worst.>

<Oh no. No, no, _hell no_. If Jake and I can take out Visser One’s entire personal guard, then Tobias, Cassie, and Tom will eat those bastards for _dinner_ ,> Rachel snapped.

<You came in fully armed. Tom’s Yeerk was supposed to arrive alone,> Marco countered, voice grim. <Cassie and Tobias have two morphs to do before battle, and Tom can’t drag _them_ through the halls. And if the three of them went all-in…well, it’s hard to miss a jaguar, a polar bear, and a wolf. >

<So which is it, Ax?> Jake pressed. <What are we looking at?>

<I don’t know. The communication channels may simply be damaged. They may still be fighting. Or…they may have lost. It’s impossible to tell from here.> Ax looked troubled. <They have a difficult fight. Tom said his Yeerk’s loyalists were all morph-capable.>

<Keep trying.> Useless order.

<Yes. But…> Ax’s stalk-eye swept towards the sealed door. Angry clamours grew on the other side. Jake could hear the whine of handheld Dracon beams. <We don’t have much time.>

 

They paced in front of the controls. Behind them, the whine on the other side of the door grew slowly, steadily louder. Rachel vented her rage on the few Taxxons that lived.

Ax continued to hail the Blade ship. The Blade ship remained unresponsive, an eerie black battle-axe suspended in silence.

 _Silent as the grave_ , and Jake mentally kicked himself for even thinking it. His tiger eyes never left the little round blip of his father, pixels on a screen.

His father was easier to look at than the mangled corpses behind them, shredded by tiger claws.

<Approximately one minute to breach,> Ax reported, sounding as helpless as he felt.

<If it came down to it,> Marco said, ignoring Rachel’s growl, <can we beat the Blade ship?>

Ax shook his head. <No. Our Dracon cannon is on par with theirs, but the Blade ship is far more maneuverable. And that was _before_ I crippled our navigation. >

<And we don’t have the pool.>

A note of bitter despair crept into Ax’s voice. <No, we do not.>

<I guess the Blade ship is the least of our problems anyway,> Marco muttered.

Jake wanted to scream. They’d come so _close_ —sabotaged the ground pool, held the Pool ship’s bridge, close to taking the pool itself. They’d killed the Visser. _Killed the Visser!_

And all for nothing.

They didn’t destroy the onboard Yeerk pool. Didn’t capture the Blade ship. Now they were trapped in between the Blade ship’s Dracon cannon and the onslaught of Controllers.

The last Yeerk pool. The last bastion of Yeerk power in this sector of the galaxy.

_They can’t have the pool._

Rachel reared up to her full, terrifying height. Started for the door. <If I’m going down I’m taking them—>

<Rachel,> Jake cut in. Rachel paused, tirade and all.

One last hopeful look at the battle-axe, silent as the grave. One long look at Marco, who’d seen the inevitable end.

Someone had to say it.

<Ax.> His voice almost sounded calm. <Overload the Dracon cannon.>

He kept his gaze on the Blade ship and added, softly, <we’re damned anyway.>

 

The ship began to scream, a piercing whine that turned to a shriek, becoming louder and higher and rising in pitch until Jake swore his ears would blow right out.

Blood, green and yellow and red, still painted his paws. Alien and human and beast.

Jake should’ve been afraid. And yet, so close to the end—no matter _what_ end—all he could feel was relief.

In the background, Ax was speaking, voice soft in their heads: <I am the servant of my people…>

<You think they made it?> Marco. His eyes were also on the Blade ship.

<Oh yeah,> Rachel answered, with absolute certainty.

If they made it…if they did…they would be the only ones left to navigate the political disaster that was this war. Especially Cassie, with her talks for peace, her alliances with those who should be enemies, her ability to see far, far beyond battle lines, her unending compassion to all life. If anyone could make all the races see a better way, it would be her.

He hadn’t been able to do it (he hadn’t tried very hard). And Toby…possibly Arbron…would no longer be around _to_ do it. He hadn’t even been able to warn them.

So many lives sacrificed for this war.

<Five seconds.> Ax glanced at them with a smile, tail-blade at his own throat. <Rachel?>

<C’mon, Xena,> Marco prompted, almost laughing.

Rachel, beautiful, reckless, brave Rachel. Rachel, fearless in the face of death.

Rachel turned to them and grinned a feral grizzly grin painted in alien blood. <Let’s do it.>

TSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the rest is up to your imagination. :)


End file.
